50 Days of Luna
by dance-of-the-grindylows
Summary: George Weasley and Luna Lovegood have been through a lot from childhood to adulthood. Watch as their rollercoaster relationship forms and falls apart, grows and crashes.   Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH; EWE; GW/LL; rated T for later chapters.
1. 1

****Title:** **(50) Days of Luna****  
>Rating:<strong> **T**  
><strong>Chapter #:<strong> **1**  
><strong>Ships:** **George x Luna**  
>Eras:** Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH

**NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now._

* * *

><p><strong>(1)<strong>

"You look like a banana."

Seven-year-old George Weasley sidled over to Luna Lovegood, who was crouching over a cluster of his mother's slowly-blooming dahlias, her expression a look of delight and fascination. Brilliant white light bounced off the silver canapé platter he was carrying glumly in both hands – the result of trying to prank Ron and being caught by his dad. Fred, his twin brother and co-conspirator, had slipped away to somewhere else among the guests, offering out the miniature cakes and savouries whilst scoffing a couple himself every few minutes.

Luna and her parents lived just over the crest of the hill that overlooked The Burrow, and even though the family was known to be a little odd, Molly Weasley had invited the Lovegoods to her summer garden party because it was 'the right thing to do, and dear Xeno has some cracking anecdotes to entertain the guests'. George had never really paid much attention to their daughter whenever they had visited, however; for she was Ginny's friend, and existed solely as another target for a practical joke or two. Today, it was difficult to miss Luna though: she wore a sunshine-yellow dress that seemed even brighter than the exploding star itself.

She glanced up at George, letting the ladybird she had been cradling take flight from her palm.

"Oh," she said slightly sheepishly, eyes glued to the dewy grass.

"Nothing wrong with that," smiled George. "Besides" – his voice dropped to a quiet mumble – "bananas are my favourite fruit."

He could feel his cheeks growing hotter. Within seconds, he was certain they would flush to match his red mop of hair, and so shuffled a little left into the shade. Stealing a quick glance at Luna, he found that she was beaming.

"Canapé?"

Luna looked thoughtfully at the outstretched tray in front of her, weighing up the choices before daintily plucking a butterfly cake from its centre.

"Don't mind if I do," she laughed, licking the tip of the whipped cream that topped the bun.

Even after George had smiled, nodded a goodbye, and moved on, he couldn't help but feel happier at every glimpse of yellow throughout the day.

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is a fic written for the 50 Phrases Challenge by **L'amoureuse**. In the challenge, there are 50 sentences and bits of speech that the authors have to base their chapters off. There has to be one chapter per phrase, and one phrase per chapter._

_I decided to write mine out-of-order, inspiration taken from the film '(500) Days of Summer'._

_Hope you like it, stick with me!:)_

_Reviews - as ever - always appreciated._


	2. 2

**Title: **(50) Days of Luna**  
>Rating: <strong>T**  
>Chapter #: <strong>2**  
>Ships: **George x Luna**  
>Eras:** Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH  
><strong>Genres:** Romance, Friendship, Drama

_[Prompt #4: "When is the last time you looked in the mirror?"]_

**NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now._

* * *

><p><strong>(2) <strong>

**One day later**

Hanging brilliantly in the sky, the mid-morning sun projected its rays through the air of Ottery St. Catchpole, illuminating the dust flecks which milled about and projecting their floaty dance. One particular bar of this sunlight shone directly on the back of Luna Lovegood, filling the natural frame of two hefty tree trunks. Luna slipped between the chunky oaks and twisting cedars, tiptoed around a sleeping gnome with caution to avoid treading on its knobbly body, and finally crossed a small bridge which had multiple signs nailed to it, the largest of which proclaiming in bright orange letters her destination: 'THE BURROW'

Crossing the beautifully tended to front garden, the young girl reached the front door. She rapped its surface three times, being careful that the lumpy package in her hands did not slip from her grasp. Muffled, far-off hollers drifted through the wooden surface to Luna's ears, and seconds later the door was flung open by the kindly, plump woman she knew to be Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Luna!" the woman said jovially, as if the short, blonde girl was the person she had most longed to see on her doorstep. "Good morning, dearie, come along inside."

Marvellous scents of assorted treats rushed to Luna's nostrils as she crossed the threshold and found herself in the Weasley kitchen. It was a little after eleven o'clock, she gathered, and a Sunday, so it came as no surprise to find the family of redheads still sitting around the table, enjoying an extended breakfast.

"Here, now, let me take your jacket and have a seat. There's bacon frying and bagels in the oven, I'll whip you up a plate in just a tick ..." Mrs Weasley began to potter about the kitchen. The sight made Luna smile; Molly looked like a mother duck, overseeing everyone.

She didn't plan to stay, however, and kept her wellington boots on as she politely declined the invitation. "No thank you, Mrs. Weasley, I've already eaten and my Dad would like me back soon. I only came to give you this," she said, extending the parcel she had been cradling and offering it to Mrs. Weasley. "It's just a little something to thank you for your party yesterday, my parents said it really was excellent."

"Oh, bless you, it was nothing," Molly beckoned Luna over for a warm hug. "Tell your parents we're extremely grateful and that they can pop round any time."

Suddenly, one of the many whirring gadgets on the kitchen counter behind them emitted a loud _ding!,_signalling the food was ready. Mrs. Weasley released Luna from the tight hug and glanced at the machine before looking back at her.

"No, it just won't do, leaving you on an empty stomach – ah ah ah, don't protest with me," she said, ignoring Luna's interjections and flicking her wand, sending a plate shooting from the crockery cabinet, "you're at least having a bit of bacon and that's final."

Her firmness was in good meaning, however, and so Luna soon found herself seated at the long dinner table, wellies discarded by the door, a plate of bacon and jug of pumpkin juice before her. She thanked Mrs. Weasley again whilst filling her glass with the sweet, tangy liquid and taking a sip.

Luna then turned her attention to the others seated around her as she ate. There was Mr. Weasley at the head of the table, nose buried in the day's edition of The Daily Prophet; the older boys that she recognised to be Bill, Charlie and Percy heatedly discussing the recent induction of a new law in Quidditch; Ginny – who was a few months younger than her – and Ron – who was a year older than the pair of them – bickering at the opposite end of the table; and finally the twins, Fred and George, who were seated adjacent to her and seemed the best candidates for striking up a conversation.

Before she even had time to formulate an idea of what to say, though, one of the twins piped up first – George, she thought, her suspicions confirmed as she spotted the large 'G' emblazoned on his jumper.

"Did you enjoy the canapés last night? Fred and I baked them ourselves, you know." His light-hearted fib prompted a sharp rap on the head by Mrs. Weasley's duster as she passed, saying she was heading to the laundry room to sort through the fresh clothes.

"Mum's just for show, you see," continued Fred, jerking a thumb towards the retreating woman, "we wheel her out when there's company because she looks more like the sort to cook."

"When really," finished George, "we're the masterminds behind the whole operation."

Their odd way of telling stories made Luna laugh, and as she did, a smear of butter ended up on her lip, the product of chuckling whilst eating a piece of toast. Her mind didn't register this, though, and so she remained oblivious until Fred suddenly leapt towards Percy at the mention of his name and George pointed it out.

"Only a little bit, on your top lip, there," he said politely.

Some people would feel embarrassed when confronted with a situation like that, however Luna showed no trace of humiliation and merely wiped away the food with a word of thanks. "Didn't realise you were a messy eater, eh, Lovegood – you may live on top of a hill but I didn't expect you to act like it!" George teased.

"Oh really, Weasley? Well, when is the last time you looked in the mirror?"

Grinning at the boy's sudden panicked expression and worried glance at the mirror, only to find his face absolutely fine and food-free, Luna leapt from her seat, hopped into her boots, shouted her thanks and goodbye to Mr. Weasley and grabbed her jacket before bolting out of the door; she galloped over the bridge, shrieking with laughter as George hurtled after her.

"I'll get you back next time, little Lovegood!" she heard him yell playfully from the other side of the stream.

Luna couldn't wait.


	3. 3

**Title: **(50) Days of Luna**  
>Rating: <strong>T**  
>Chapter #: <strong>3**  
>Ships: **George x Luna**  
>Eras:** Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH  
><strong>Genres:** Romance, Friendship, Drama

_[Prompt #14: "Urgh. That's absolutely the most repulsive thing I've ever seen."]_

**NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now._

* * *

><p><strong>(3)<strong>

**One month later**

Sweltering late-August sun beat down across the fields surrounding the Burrow like a whip, rolling off the backs and arms of the Weasley boys in waves. Bill's idea of playing Quidditch above the overgrown grasses and thickets surrounding the perimeter of the house had been enthusiastically accepted by the others, excepting Percy, who had rubbished the notion due to the ridiculous heat of the afternoon. His brothers had mocked and teased him for this initially, of course, though after having to peel off their shirts and roll up their trousers to the knees they realised he was right. No boy would ever dream of telling him so, however – the only thing worse than Percy normally was Percy when smug. Instead, they played on through the fiery temperature, dismounting their brooms every fifteen minutes or so to leap into the crystal pond nearby for a burst of icy refreshment.

Fred and Bill had just lost by ten points to Charlie, George and Ron when the distant call of Mrs. Weasley notified them of lunch. Easing to the ground, dismounting and retrieving their shirts, the brothers hurried back to the Burrow, stomachs crying out for nourishment. Finding the front door already ajar upon reaching the house, they quickly disposed of their broomsticks in the garden shed and entered the kitchen.

"About time! I was starting to worry you'd flew away," clucked Mrs. Weasley, setting baskets of freshly-baked bread onto the table. It was only then that her sons noticed the three blonde people collecting their coats and making to leave.

"Didn't realise we had company, Mum, sorry," muttered Charlie sheepishly before turning to face the Lovegoods. "Nice to see you. How was your holiday?"

They were considerably browner, George observed. It turned out that the reason behind this was a month-long vacation in Turkey, the motive for such a long stay being a 'fascinating opportunity for study of the hunting methods of Knock-Kneed Beazels', according to Xenophilius.

Standing a few feet behind her parents and dressed head-to-toe in peach was Luna, staring up at the magical Weasley clock with a look of wonder. George edged towards her, smiling at his friend.

"That's a nice clock," she said breezily. "Doesn't help much in telling the time, but it helps in many other ways, I suppose."

It was odd, hearing such mature things come from such a little person, and yet the manner of it still sort of fit Luna somehow. She carried around an air of wisdom and understanding far beyond her years.

"Luna, we're going home now, fetch your coat dear," her mother called from the doorway. Mrs. Weasley was being kissed goodbye by Xenophilius, and George's brothers had escaped back outside for a few more minutes of sun before the plates of steaming food were set down on the table. George headed out to the yard to join them, and Luna followed. The parents were still nattering, extending their goodbye in the irritating fashion that adults always seemed to do, when Luna crouched down onto the ground suddenly, squatting near a clump of petunias. Puzzled, George walked over to her.

At her feet was one of the ugliest creatures in the entire garden, a stray remaining from the de-gnoming session the family had undergone earlier. It was knobbly and beet-coloured, with piggy yellow eyes, and yet Luna was treating it like a baby puppy. As she tentatively reached out a hand to stroke its bald head, the gnome convulsed and spat out green phlegm at the earth.

"Urgh. That's absolutely the most repulsive thing I've ever seen," said George, "and I've experienced Fred on Monday mornings."

Luna chuckled at the sentiment, but continued to inspect the gnome anyway like a nurse to her patient.

"He may have swallowed a Gremyfult ... their scales are green," she added, turning to glance up at George as if that made the sentence any easier for him to understand. Luna then addressed the squirming creature before her. "Eat thistles, it clears away the residue. And stay away from the colour pink for two days." She said all of this in a very sincere tone, and although the sheer madness of her words baffled George, he couldn't help but feel endeared by it.

Crunching of gravel from behind them announced the impending departure of the Lovegoods. As Luna took her hand in her mother's and began to stroll away, she glanced back over her shoulder and gave George a little wave.

He gave the gnome a final disparaging grimace and walked back to the kitchen for lunch, but not prior to picking a single purple thistle and dropping it at the creature's feet.

"Bonkers."


	4. 4

**Title: **(50) Days of Luna**  
>Rating: <strong>T**  
>Chapter #: <strong>4**  
>Ships: **George x Luna**  
>Eras:** Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH  
><strong>Genres:** Romance, Friendship, Drama

_[Prompt #34- 'It's dark out and... we are wearing sunglasses. Care to explain?']_

**NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now._

* * *

><p><strong>(4)<strong>

"It's dark out, and we're wearing sunglasses. Care to explain?"

George Weasley was standing in the middle of a field, looking up at the night sky whose velvety sheet spread infinitely above his head, studded with pinprick stars. Perched on the crown of his head was a pair of bug-like ruby-framed sunglasses, with coils of metal and bits of sparkly fluff attached to the edges. He glanced over at Luna, who was barefoot and had her eccentric spectacles covering her swirly-grey eyes.

"They aren't sunglasses, George," she said to him plainly. Despite being a few years his junior, Luna had a tendency to speak as mature as if she was his age or even older. "They're Wrackspotters. My dad's been working on them for a while now, and though he doesn't expect them to be perfected for a few years yet, he thought it would be a good idea for me to have a go. Mum disapproved of me walking all the way to the fields at night alone, which is why you're here."

She stepped forwards slightly and spun slowly on the spot, head turning about deliberately.

"And what exactly are – er – Wrackspotters, Luna?"

"They detect the Wrackspurts. There's a high concentration of them around tall grass, so mind your ears."

Without the faintest idea of what a Wrackspurt was, George slipped his glasses onto the bridge of his nose anyway. His eyes were suddenly thrown into a whirling kaleidoscope of vivid colour and shape, a rainbow tint cast on the world surrounding him. It was a little overwhelming, but seeing the night sky illuminated in a dazzling blend of reds, greens, yellows and oranges was worth the minor queasiness. George glimpsed Luna, stretching her hands out and grabbing at patches of air.

"What do these Wrackspurts look like?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"They're tiny and dart around everywhere, little flecks of creatures." Luna faced him and pointed at his left ear. "You've got an alarmingly large cluster there, George, watch out!"

George pawed at his ear, circling on the spot like a dog chasing its tail.

"Gone?"

"Gone. Though you may want to look at your feet, there are quite a few there too," she said dizzily, her own gaze set on the distant horizon, where land met sky in a thin line.

Swarming around his right shoe was a small herd of what looked like tiny bits of fluff, all whirring about incessantly. They flitted in all directions, emitting a low buzz simultaneously.

"Tell your dad he did a good job on these," George said, lifting them away from his eyes, a sharp pain in his forehead.

Luna murmured her agreement, but added that he needed to work on removing the side-effects of a shooting headache and the mild wooziness George would feel in an hour or so. She then removed her own Wrackspotters and rubbed her eyes.

"Could you see them," she asked, "the Wrackspurts?"

George nodded and wiggled his fingers, imitating the flight of the fuzzy creatures. "They were really bizarre, a weird spectre."

"'Spectre'," Luna repeated slowly, testing how it sounded on her tongue. "I like that word."

The two children shared a grin, casting their gaze to the inky skies once again.


	5. 5

**Title: **(50) Days of Luna**  
>Rating: <strong>T**  
>Chapter #: <strong>5**  
>Ships: **George x Luna**  
>Eras:** Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH  
><strong>Genres:** Romance, Friendship, Drama

_[Prompt #46-_ _'You make me merry- make me happy.']_

**NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now._

* * *

><p><strong>(5)<strong>

**Two months later**

Crisp leaves were scattered across the ground of Ottery St. Catchpole, painting the earth with magnificent reds, golds and browns. It was late October, and the air possessed the intangible feel of autumn; brisk, shooting winds mixed with clear skies. The pleasant season still reigned before a drop of snow was to fall, but was drawing to a point of its stay which caused the residents of the small village much excitement: it was almost Halloween.

Molly Weasley loved to entertain guests, and with the special date falling on a Saturday that year, it was the perfect opportunity to throw a party. October 31st was a glorious day to the wizarding community – it commemorated the defeat and subsequent downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the hands of the little Harry Potter, the most celebrated boy in the magical world. Remembrance events and festivities were held annually to honour the occasion, however this year Mrs. Weasley wanted it to be extra special.

After a near month of forward planning, in addition to much assistance from her husband and countless lists of lists of lists to-do, Molly had perfected the unique twist to make her party special: each attendee was required to dress up as a character, either Muggle or wizarding. She had drafted in a fun competition for men and women separately; points would be allotted on creativity, originality and overall effect. Ludo Bagman had volunteered to judge this, saying it was second nature. The guest list was complete, too: many great wizarding names of the day had accepted their invitation – it was well-known that Molly Weasley threw a brilliant do. And her cooking rivalled that of the kitchens at Hogwarts, where Bill and Charlie, her eldest sons, would be dining on the night of the get-together. It was a shame they couldn't be there with the rest of the family, but Hogwarts was the only other place she would want them to be.

When twilight fell on October 31st, and pumpkins were propped in porches whilst Muggle children went into the streets seeking sugary candies to satisfy their sweet tooth, The Burrow was set alight with candles and fairy lamps. The actual party was taking place in a well-trimmed field adjacent to the house, and so tall posts had been stuck into the ground from which to hang trails of jam jars with twinkling lights placed inside them. Rugs had been laid over the grass, providing a huge square for the guests to mill around and dance on. They were enchanted to be stiff as boards and dirt-repellent so that they would be durable throughout the evening. Up in the canopy of the surrounding trees, various speakers had been arranged to play the medley of wizard-rock classics and gimmicky Muggle tunes over the course of the evening, a playlist set to countless tapes and hand-picked by the twins. A pair of eerie green and purple spotlights had been trained on the party area, casting a creepy yet pretty glow over the field.

With five minutes to go, Molly ran around her house, shooting spells from the end of her wand seemingly at random and yelling commands to her family at the top of her voice.

"PERCY, LISTS! GIVE ME THE LISTS! FRED, GEORGE, THE MUSIC ISN'T LOUD ENOUGH! RON, WHERE IS YOUR FATHER? GET OFF YOUR BOTTOM AND DO SOMETHING! And Ginny, pet, you look lovely. Would you mind fetching the silver trays for mummy, please?"

The Weasleys were a whirring blur of action and preparation, constantly moving and rushing about until seven o'clock on the dot, when they stopped still. Standing like statues in pre-organised positions around the fireplace, they ceased to even breathe. Molly flicked her wand to straighten a hanging portrait. Then, twenty or more figures came hurtling out of the fireplace at once, shooting out rapidly but somehow all landing softly on their feet. Swooping down upon them, the Weasley boys were burdened with coats and bags, scarves and gloves. They attended to the woollen bundles in their arms whilst their parents steered the guests outside, leaving them to schmooze in the designated space. Almost immediately after the first lot of invitees had come through, the flames that licked underneath the mantelpiece burst emerald again and dozens more witches and wizards tumbled into the Burrow. Among them were Amos Diggory, his wife, and their son Cedric; Ludo Bagman; Arthur's workmate Reg Cattermole with his wife; and Amelia Bones with her sister, the latter of whom had left her daughter Susan at home with her husband.

Soon, the garden was filled with dancing and merriment. This time around, however, George had not been forced to wait on the guests: despite managing to overhear titbits of very interesting gossip as he served the canapés at his mother's last party, he and Fred had been sure to keep out of trouble the week preceding this one. Instead, they had been working on their costumes. Molly had permitted the children to partake in the fancy dress competition, but only in their own separate group as she had considered it unfair to pit them against the adults. Fred and George had indignantly argued that they would rise to the challenge, yet had failed in changing her mind. They put maximum effort into designing their own costumes nevertheless, and emerged from their room an hour before the party dressed in very shocking gear indeed. With the help of minor secret corrections from their father – which were under no circumstances to be mentioned to Molly – the twins had created two suits. They were form fitting and flesh coloured, save for the horrific bit: along the arms, stomach and legs, the boys had created the effects of missing skin. Where one twin might look like the veins and bone of their forearm was exposed, the other's arm would be perfectly intact. Where Fred appeared to be missing a chunk of his shin, George's leg was normal, and vice versa. A scruffy waistcoat and a pair of trousers hacked off at the knee were to be worn over the special suits. The final result was incredible, even managing to cause Percy (a mad scientist) to do a double-take when he spotted them. Ron, in his werewolf fur, had screamed when they had jumped out in front of him; Ginny – who was a cat for the evening – had asked to prod their open wounds.

Confident they would win the mystery prize of the costume competition, Fred and George had sauntered into the garden beaming. The contest winners were to be announced in a few hours at the end of the night, just before midnight tolled. Barely five minutes into the party, guests were clapping them on the back – one particular witch took one glance at the terribly realistic mottled and torn flesh and had to dash off to the bathroom. Partway into the evening, after devouring whole trays of pumpkin pasties and being caught by Percy as they tried to smuggle a few drops of Zonko's Exploding Elixir into people's drinks, the twins spotted Cedric Diggory. The small, slightly pudgy boy lived just around the way and the three had met on various occasions. Cedric was the type of boy who looked like he would be dashingly handsome as he grew up (a good bone structure lay beneath his puppy fat, Molly had said once), yet he seemed oblivious to this and was, to Fred and George, a decent enough boy with whom to share their stories.

Loping stealthily and quietly towards him, the twins simultaneously shouted "BOO!" in Cedric's ear, causing him to jump nearly ten feet in the air. He spun round to face them, a smile on his face as he recognised their grinning expressions.

"Alright, Cedric?" Fred and George said together, smiling smugly as they watched his eyes roam over their costumes in awe.

"You're Frankenstein's monster, I see," noted Fred, nodding with appreciation.

"Are those real bolts?" asked George, prodding a lump of grey protruding from the left side of Cedric's neck.

Cedric smiled. "Yeah, Dad helped enchant them for me – but never mind those, how did you do _yours?_" he gaped, voice was rich with astonishment.

"That'd be telling, Ceddy my boy," Fred said, throwing an arm around his friend's neck whilst tapping the side of his own nose. "Right. Now where's the buffet?"

* * *

><p>Whilst walking towards the stretching table covered in food with his brother and Cedric, George's eyes caught a streak of bright silver from the opposite site of the garden. Attention captured, he looked closer at its source: it belonged to a young girl's hair, which had been combed upwards and poofed out into a tall blonde tower above her head. The glimpse he had caught was of a shiny streak worked into the huge mass of hair. His stare moved down from the top of her head to her face, which was painted a slightly greenish hue with dramatic black eyes and cherry-red lips. Clothed in a greyed wedding dress whose train swept tattered across the grass behind her, the girl was totally unrecognisable.<p>

George had been looking at her an instant too long, he realised as her head suddenly turned to face his. His gaze darted away and he coughed, embarrassed at being caught staring, but from the corner of his eye he noticed the girl had dropped the black-rose bouquet that she had been clutching upon seeing him. Also, unless it was the light deceiving him, he suspected a trace of a rosy blush beneath the green face-paint as she stumbled to pick it up.

She was barefoot.

* * *

><p>"Luna!" a voice called out. It was familiar and she recognised it at once, beaming cordially as she turned to greet George Weasley again.<p>

"Hello, George," she chimed. "Frightful costume you've got there, I see."

George laughed. "I could say the same thing about you! I barely recognised you before."

"Well then, that's good, isn't it?" Luna said, her eyes roaming across the other party guests. George was confused – it wasn't the first time the girl had said something he didn't understand, however, and he knew her well enough to wait patiently for her to explain herself. "It means I might have a good hope in the costume competition your mum has arranged. I thought your sister had a lovely one too, so I wouldn't mind if she won either."

"It's being judged in about ten minutes, you know. Me and Fred can't wait. D'you reckon we've got a chance?"

"Of course, George, you're absolutely terrifying," she said earnestly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he grinned. "Although we'd probably have to cut the prize in half, wouldn't we?"

"In that case, I hope it's not a new pet."

As the pair talked, the orange form of Ludo Bagman – a pumpkin for the night – made its way to a little raised platform in front of the Burrow. He moved his wand to his throat, tapped it once and murmured '_Sonorus_'. When the man next spoke, his voice boomed out for all of the members of the party to hear. "Ladies and gentlemen, children and beasts," he began, tone ominous and dramatic, "it is time."

By now, he had the crowd's full attention. Everyone stood looking up at him, hanging on his every word. Lit up in the distance, behind Bagman's figure and past the Burrow, was the clock face of the church in Ottery St. Catchpole. During the elongated pause before Ludo's next words, the black minute hand swung to twelve, bells tolling in a cacophony of eerie, rhythmic clangs. The group collectively shuddered. "Time ..." Bagman continued menacingly, "...to announce the results of the costume competition!" he finished in a joyous, cheerful tone with sweeping hand gestures, purposely shattering the mood. The guests clapped, a few whistles and shouts echoing out too.

"Right. So, without further ado ..."

Ten minutes later, it had been announced that Amelia Bones had won for the women with her pun-intended choice of a skeleton costume, and Amos Diggory, a headless monk, for the men. George and Luna had clapped politely when required as they stood at the back of the crowd, waiting for the children's categories.

George had just muttered another joke in reaction to the quite brazenly drunk Ludo Bagman's antics as he talked to Amos on-stage when Luna turned to look at him. There he was, with half of his jawbone and gums 'exposed' and his hair stained a blood-red, pulling ridiculous faces and hopping from foot to foot, and yet it all seemed _right._ Comfortable, natural. She hoped that he considered her as good a friend as she thought him.

"You know George, you make me merry," she said candidly. "Make me happy."

George smiled, a little surprised by the straightforward and out-of-the-blue comment but pleased nonetheless. "Good," he laughed.

"I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too."

Suddenly, the crowd burst into applause again. The pair joined in and set their gazes onto the stage, not entirely aware what they were clapping for. Ludo Bagman was hunched over, eyes peering out across the crowd, who were also looking around amongst themselves. "Is he in the bathroom?" Bagman slurred bewilderedly. "Do we have a Mr George Weasley with us?"

Fred could be seen walking up the steps at the side of the platform towards Ludo, and all became clear.

"You've won! You've won the contest, George!" Luna shrieked, but George was already off like a rocket, sprinting to join his brother on the stage. She watched, beaming and cheering, as they collected two small trophies and teased Ludo, making the audience and herself laugh. After a few minutes of banter between Bagman and the twins, they left the stage, waving their trophies about and whooping with glee. She continued to clap feverishly after they melted into the crowd.

"Now for the last pr-prize to be awarded, for Girls' ... Girls' ... Girls' Best Costume, that's the one ..." Ludo pulled a final, shiny envelope from a hidden pocket in his pumpkin suit and opened it. Luna held her breath as he resumed.

"The winner of the Girls' ... Girls' ... oh, forget it: it's one Miss Luna Lovegood!"

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><p><em>AN: Sorry for the huge delay in posting this chapter, I was off holidaying for a long time! In order to make up for it I've made it a long one: hope you enjoy it, and as always, reviews are much, much appreciated :)_


	6. 6

****Title:** **(50) Days of Luna****  
>Rating:<strong> **T**  
><strong>Chapter #:<strong> **6**  
><strong>Ships:** **George x Luna**  
>Eras:** Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Post-DH

_Prompt #36: 'It's an eclipse.'_

**NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now._

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><p><strong>(6)<strong>

Flaming auburn, the sky was blazing with a rich sunset. Its vivid, burnt colours reflected back from the unruffled surfaces of a large, disc-shaped pond. Dusk in Ottery St. Catchpole was an unmissable sight to behold, and watching it unfold that particular evening was a small cluster of children, five of whom had hair that matched the fiery shades of the setting sun. They were almost hidden in the reeds which poked out of the pond's glassy surface in clutches. Five pairs of feet were dangling ankles-deep in the cool, inky water as the young witches and wizards sat on the bank, watching the sky and chatting pleasantly. It was an uncommonly mild evening for November, and so Percy Weasley - the eldest of the children, at almost eleven years old - had persuaded the group to walk to this particular spot, for very shortly an even greater magic than any of them had ever experienced was to occur; a very rare happening amid the skies.

Luna Lovegood, the only non-redheaded child in attendance, took another sip from the container of fresh pumpkin juice before passing it on to Ginny Weasley, who was sitting to her right. After the girl had also had her fill, the jug was handed back. Luna smiled at her friend and tapped the right shoulder of another Weasley, George, on her left-hand side. And so the pattern continued, the flagon moving back and forth along the line until it was nearly empty. As Ron, the youngest Weasley boy, announced that he had been the one to drain it, Percy checked his watch.

"In good timing, too," he said, glancing up at the darkened sky. The others' eyes followed his and a collective gasp escaped from their mouths as they watched the moon pass directly over the red sun, extinguishing all light.

"What iis that, Perce?" asked Ron from somewhere on Luna's right. Her vision had adjusted to the sudden darkness slightly, enough to make out her friends' outlines and the shape of the oval pool before them.

Percy's response floated from Luna's left. "It's an eclipse," he said admiringly. The word, so foreign to the other children, sounded perfect.

The five sat in awed silence for a minute, gazing up at the spectacle unravelling above their heads. The sun was now completely invisible, the moon covering it flawlessly.

Fred's voice, speaking so low it was almost a whisper, was the one to break the enrapt spell that the eclipse had cast over the group. "Hey, George," he murmured, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Luna could hear the smile in his voice and the hint of mischief in his twin's reply. "I think I am indeed, Fred."

Then, simultaneously, the two brothers stood up, their shapes almost identical in the near-darkness. Luna squinted as they moved, trying to make out what they were doing. She watched them roll their trouser legs up even further and nod at each other. After a few brief moments, they began to draw nearer to the pond's edge.

"Fred, George, what are you -" an astonished Percy began to say, but his words were cut off by the splash of the two boys leaping into the water.

Luna couldn't help but chuckle as their heads popped up above the water.

"Cor, it's cold!"

"Absolutely freezing!"

"No, wait ..."

"Has it warmed up?"

"No, you've just gotten used to it."

"Oh, well in that case, it's lovely!"

It wasn't until the instantaneous shock of the icy water hit her like a slap across the face that Luna realised what she was doing. She allowed herself to bob back up to stick her head above the water's surface, to find that, luckily, the pond was shallow and so she could stand up in the clear water with ease. Her legs were numb as she laughed at Fred and George's cheers at her joining them, but soon - as the twins had noted - her body became used to the temperature of the pool and she was free to move about. The eclipse still in full motion, all Luna could hear was the splashes of whom she first guessed to be Ron, followed by Ginny, also plopping into the water.

"What in heavens' name are you lot doing? You'll wreck your dress, Ginny, and that pond might not be as clean as it looks!" Percy protested; but after a few further complaints, even he ended up in the pool with them.

The world was still mostly pitch black around her, the only light coming from the sliver of sun that had re-emerged. Luna stared up at it, eyes even wider than usual as she gazed at its brilliance.

"Great, isn't it?"

George's voice sounded from directly to her directly. She could hear the water rippling softly as he moved to her side.

"Yes," she agreed quietly. "I'm glad we can all see it together."

"Me too," said George.

Had anyone looked underneath the crystal pond's surface as the dim light began to return, they would have seen two hands intertwined in the water; friendship.


End file.
